Page 54 of Song of the Hell Witch

“Mari says you lost a sister and this is why you changed,” Rita said, her tone so cheerful it was almost off-putting. “Is this true? Or is there more to it than that?”

“That … was … mostly … it,” Pru huffed. “But … I also wanted … to get … away .”

“From Leora?”

“All of it.” She leaned against the wall, aching to fly the rest of the way, save her tired legs. “We’d … been poor … for so long. I thought getting away … would get me … a new life.”

“But you got that too, yes? Later?”

“Rita … tell me about … you .”

She chuckled, as though the question excited her. “What about me?”

“How … did you … change?”

“Oh.” Her chuckle was short, pained. “Mine was rage. My father, he beat my mother when I was a child, and when I was old enough to hit without killing, he beat me too. Even though I did everything I could to be useful.”

“Spheres, I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I am not a woman who likes to be—what is the Leoran word for it—pitched? Pitchered?”

“Pitied.”

“That. Besides, I got my revenge.” She glanced down at her right arm like she was admiring something only she could see.

“There is something beautiful about watching a piece of yourself attack a man so determined to break you. And my viper’s venom tortures before it kills.

It is marvelous to watch. And horrifying.

I only wish it wasn’t so dangerous, so that I could bring my mother to live here. ”

“She’s still … alive?”

“Oh yes. She owns a caf é in Vivichi now, with a little apartment just above it. It overlooks the canals and smells like Belacans cinnamon, she says.” Joy bloomed on Rita’s face, and Pru wasn’t sure if it was at the thought of her mother or because they’d finally reached the top of the steps.

Two closed doors, both shaped into pointed arches, waited for them. “We still write letters to each other.”

“That’s … lovely.” Pru took a restorative breath as Rita led her through the door on the left.

The bedroom was much larger than she’d imagined.

The round stone walls were dusted with white paint, and like every other room in the manor, there was a fireplace and a small sitting area, this one with a braceberry-toned armchair and a matching chaise perfect for reading.

Beside one of the windows, a ghostwood wardrobe waited, its doors thrown open to reveal an array of different gowns, trousers, shifts, and blouses, outfits for every occasion and time of day.

“How did you—”

“Mari gave us some insight on what you might like and said you were about me and Hetty’s size, so we went through our old stores and picked out a few things for you,” Rita said. “Mari is very special that way, no? Always knowing what people need before they need it.”

Prudence trailed her hand down one of the velvet gowns before turning to smile. “You like her, then? Mari?”

Rita tucked her chin and rubbed at the back of her neck, a humble giggle escaping her. “She’s … funny. And sort of wild. And Flossie likes her too, which is something rare, since Flossie so rarely likes anyone.”

“Mm. You’d have two strong-willed women on your hands.

Which, if you ask me, is never a bad thing unless those wills come to blows.

They seem to be strong in different ways, though, so that might play in your favor.

” She wandered over to the bed, a four-poster draped in emerald curtains.

From the right side of the mattress, she could see the hamlet out the window.

In the afternoon sun, the buildings glowed gold and the roses in the flower boxes looked like lips tilted up to kiss the stark blue sky.

“I don’t know, having relations with more than one person at once …

exciting, I think, but too stressful for my tastes. ”

“Your man gives you enough stress as it is, eh?” Rita set the towels down on the chaise and then leaned against its back, grinning like a little girl with a secret. “You strike me as the kind who likes both, though. The men and the women?”

Pru’s ears reddened. “I do, yes.”

“Why confine yourself to one, then?” Rita tutted. “Have both! At one time, no less!”

“Oh, trust me. I have.” Many times, actually. “But …” She trailed off, unaware of where she was going with it.

“None so precious as him?”

Pru thought back on what it was like that night Puck found her in the storm drain. How her heart had soared when, instead of shouting and stumbling back, he’d said, “Nice wings,” and invited her to come get warm. How quickly she’d melted when he kissed her that first time.

“No,” she finally answered, the truth of it making her knees weak. She steadied herself against the back of the chaise, her fingers inches away from Rita’s own. “Not yet anyway.”

“All I can say is this.” Rita paused for a moment, and Pru wondered if she was having to translate her message out of Belacans and into Leoran.

“This place has a way of … pulling the truth out of people. Either in sessions or just because we’re all sort of on top of each other.

Your man, he will be sharing the room next to yours, connected by the bathroom.

Maybe, in being so close, you will find a way back to each other. ”

“Maybe.” She took another look at the gowns in the wardrobe, and they felt like the perfect excuse to change the subject. “Those will definitely help, I think. They’re beautiful. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh, do not thank me. After today, you’re on your own. I just like making people feel welcome.” The woman beamed and rolled her shoulders back. “Now, I must go check on Flossie. The loss of Imogen will …”

“Tell her I’m sorry.” The words choked her. “That I couldn’t save her.”

“She knows. We’ve all failed to save someone before.

It just hurts more, when they’re people you love and not strangers.

” Rita nodded toward the door beside the fireplace.

“The bathroom is in there. We’ve mined a few of the Spectabra crystals from the river and enchanted them to make hot water, so all you have to do is turn the faucet to the temperature you like. ”

“Enchanted?” As far as Pru knew, the only magic that existed in the world was the magic that created Hell Witches. She’d never heard of charms or enchantments before. “What do you mean, enchanted?”

Rita pressed a finger to her lips. “There are many secrets to this place. But you must learn them in time. Not a second before. Enjoy your bath, Prudence!”

“Pru,” she corrected, and in an instant, the thief she’d been and the duchess she was stopped their warring inside her. It was like stepping into a new skin … like being reborn into someone once familiar and entirely new. “Call me Pru.”

“Pru, then.” Rita was almost out the door when she popped her head back in. “Oh, Pru?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ll want to dress for dinner after.” She flashed her a devilish grin. “Even with only half of us here, we never miss the chance for a night of feasting and dancing.”